Regardless of what you say, I was not at fault for what happened in the last year.

Yes, I know that what is written within your pages appears to be in my handwriting, but the truth is, I was not in my right mind when I wrote it, which makes the writing of it invalid and wrong, rather than right.

Do you see?

Admittedly, it would seem on first viewing, that the thoughts that I spilled out onto the virgin white of your paper skin over the last twelve months were my own, but you lack perspective of knowing why I chose to record them in the first place. For the truth of the matter, so do I, but that’s a different story.

I admit that its rather late to have these misgivings, given, in fact, that this is July, and I should have found succour in another journals bindings, but I felt the need to revisit you, in case there was ever any confusion, doubt, or recourse.

Really, I do appreciate your understanding in this matter.

Though I realise it is your raison d-etre, I would appreciate it if you kept those rather unwise, and emotive descriptions of my work colleagues to yourself. I was drunk at the time, you see, and I don’t think it would be wise for them to see my innermost thoughts on their ability to find arses with elbows.

I have Facebook for that, after all.

So, if you could see clear, to obliterating my year, and giving some cheer, I’ll no longer fear.

Regardless of what people think, he's terribly shy and awkward in person. When someone comes to talk to him, his face turns red and he becomes flustered, stammering as he rubs his sweaty hands together.

The smallest children drank their juice while the adults indulged their various propensities for beverages foamy or colorful or simply, well, neat. The grill smoked and sputtered and burnt offerings were made to the assembled on paper plates that soon went soggy with the grease supplemented by butter for the sweetcorn. The coolers disgorged the watermelons and the seed spitting shenanigans soon followed. And when all had eaten their fill and the younger ones cut off from more beverages to mitigate problems after they were asleep, the crowd spread out on blankets and look hopefully toward the quarry, awaiting the pyrotechnics show.

Y'all in the United States have a wonderful Independence Day. And please leave the fireworks to the professionals, not to those who've been drinking all day.

There was only one brave warrior who dared to step into the beast's den. His silver armor shone in the moonlight as he unsheathed his sword as he stepped deeper into the dark cave, his nose catching the nasty fumes of the dragon's breath. He heard it move in the shadows, lurking, and the knight knew he'd been discovered. The man grinned, excitement rising, his heart thudding against his ribcage, the grip of his hand tightened around the sword's handle.

The golden dragon suddenly came on sight, flames illuminating the large chamber and the intrepid warrior got a brief glimpse the creature's treasure, but nothing there worth more than the renown that slaying such beast would bring him.

The dragon attacked, covering the ground with flames, filling the air with a sour, sulfuric clouds. Yet the magnanimous knight held his shield high, and step after step, his boots dug in the ashes of his predecessors as he moved forward...

His phone startled him, interrupting his reading. He sighed heavily, closing the book as he picked up the annoying call.

The avid adventurer tilted his head, scratching the scruff in his chin as he stared at the map, and then the compas, trying to orientate himself under the stars. He squinted his tired eyes, attempting to find at least one of the many mysterious islands appearing on his recently acquired map.

The luscious wind of the interminable ocean caressed his hair and he sighed in content. He was lost, he knew it, but he was happy, surrounded by magical waters. With a bit of luck, he'd get somewhere.

He opened the fridge, craving something sweet and found one last, small bowl left from the day before. His eyes sparkled, he felt greedy as a thief and looking around, he took the small plastic container. Hurrying to hide in his room. Once locked in there, he sat down on his bed and finally tried the junket, smiling at the sweet strawberry taste. It was like a tiny piece of sweet and cold heaven, just perfect.

Eternity in the night and all we amount to is a hundred layers of pointless sophistry? What's the point of these gestures and petty motions when we know they did it. Acting like Isaac's corpses isn't torpid his basement or dead? Jess's knuckles couldn't get any whiter as she pursed her lips into a warm smile and welcomed the Nosferatu elder in with a timid bow. He graced her with a nod, a thank, and a gaze that knew very well where this would end once they left Elysium grounds.

Wallace walked across the streets of London with his pale and blonde head held high. He was proud, and had no worries in his life. He was happy, having his companion at his side. The vampire ignored the many eyes turning his way. The creature was clad in the finest fabrics and leathers, carrying an ivory and ebony cane, richly decorated with precious gems. Most people thought Lord Attwood was an eccentric rich man, that someday would end up expending all his fortune in expensive and unnecessary things, but they didn't know any of his very well kept secrets. If the did, Lord Attwood's wasted money would be the last of their concerns.

The body fell to the ground and remained immobile for a moment, yet slowly, instead of blood, a greyish goo began to leak out of the bullet holes. Jolting, the creature opened its huge yellow eyes and looked up at its attackers. Growling and shaking, what seemed to be a human commenced to transmogrify into a mass of pale flesh and some kind of mud, limbs growing out of it, and being reabsorbed. The thing screeched through many mouths that only appeared for a split second, it shoot that odd, stinking fluid to the soldiers and dragged its deformed body away. Legs shaping out of its body turned into hands and arms and knees as the creature attempted to escape into the woods, in front of many terrified eyes.

The benevolent winds carried the lost and lonely captain and his vessel to pristine islands. The warm sun light bathed the sands and rocks along the shore, the breeze danced with the many palms and other trees. The sailor smiled, his tired body gradually being pulled up to his feet by a hopeful spirit. The anchor hit the shallow waters with a dreamy splash and the man hurried to touch land, his wet fingers curling in the sand as the adventurer thanked the gods. Looking up the bright blue skies, he breathed the salty air and began to walk deeper into the small island. This was the beginning of the new life he was looking for.

Monitor duty was usually pretty boring, but Raoul really hated when it fell his time to have to report to the job on days when the weather throughout most of the coast was just perfect for sailing or surfing or testing out his latest scuba gear. "I don't know how you handle it," he said to the hero who was just leaving. "Especially this time of the year."

Summertime stopped and regarded Raoul with the sign-in/out clipboard still in his hand. "This time of the year?"

"Yeah, aren't your powers stronger right now? I thought that's where your name came from."

The other hero chuckled then softly shook their head. "Nah, that's just a nod to the fact that I'm only really active right about now. Break time from regular job. I'm a school teacher by profession ."

Raoul laughed. "Oh, well, 'Summertime' is pretty descriptive, then."

"Yep, and too many people didn't understand what my first name had meant. I guess Captain Canicular was too esoteric for the masses."

That's how my call to the exterminator started. And quickly went downhill. Turns out being visited by a Bene Volent is considered by some people to be a gift from the gods! But I can't quite manage to turn this curse into anything else. Vicious creatures, these Volents. And the Bene are the worst!